


i'd give up all my wings for you

by earlgrey_milktea



Series: milktea's saso2017 fills [16]
Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: M/M, Poetry, Prompt Fill, character study of sorts, retelling of the legend of icarus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 12:22:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11207991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgrey_milktea/pseuds/earlgrey_milktea
Summary: this is the story of how takaya falls for the sun.





	i'd give up all my wings for you

**Author's Note:**

> original prompt [here](http://sportsanime.dreamwidth.org/22249.html?thread=11649513#cmt11649513)
> 
> C3: **the legend of icarus**

“be careful you don’t get burned,”

is the first lesson takaya has ever learned.

but  **ambition** is his first religion

so takaya dives, straining his half-grown wings,

doesn’t look down.

he starts with a hand-me-down glove

in the tiny field in a nearby park

and his own clumsy body;

until finally he’s learned

how to plant both feet firm

how to sharpen his mind into his own best-kept weapon

and takaya— _ takes off _ .

 

 

\o/

 

 

haruna is all sea-salt and ocean breeze,

the cool winter to takaya’s spring rain.

he pitches hard and fast and

takaya collects bruises like war trophies

until he realizes he is fighting

a one-sided battle, and for the first time

he feels his wings begin to slow.

haruna is all wild depths and unyielding waves,

and he threatens to drown takaya whole.

(“be careful you don’t get burned,”

has kept takaya from holding his head too high, but

no one ever taught him to be careful

he doesn’t  **drown** _. _ )

 

 

\o/

 

 

nishiura is the little corner of the sky

takaya is determined to take for his own.

until momokan announces that they’re just short

a pitcher, and takaya feels himself

crashing through the air—

but before he can hit the ground, there

is a skittering bird of a boy

and from his lips is the salvation takaya has been searching for:

“p-p-pitcher,” mihashi ren says,

and takaya can hear his tattered wings unfurl again.

 

 

\o/

 

 

mihashi is sweltering heat and late sundowns,

the kind of clear skies that children spend hours playing in.

takaya immerses himself in the familiar scent

of sweat on skin, dirt on knees

of pocari dripping down his chin,

the rice balls shinooka presents and

the summer that bleeds through mihashi’s flushed cheeks.

haruna’s bruises fade to watercolour memories,

and takaya finds sunstained gold 

in mihashi’s hair, mihashi’s eyes, mihashi’s freckles.

it almost hurts to stare, but he can’t look

away; takaya is a moth drawn to a flame

and mihashi is evening cicada song and sunburn on his skin,

takaya wants to spend his whole life

attempting to soak in all that radiance.

 

 

\o/

 

 

“i want to try communicating with abe-kun, too!” mihashi says,

and when he beams, takaya sees

sunrises and sunsets and gold gold  _ gold _

and something  **burns** within him, behind him,

like electricity running through him inside out

and flames erupting from his back, chasing light— 

takaya is free-falling, sunshine warming his skin

and all he knows is a bird-like boy

with a smile that eclipses the sun, and takaya

f  

     a 

           l      

  l 

       s

**Author's Note:**

> come cry with me about these soft baseball gays @puddingcatbae on tumblr/twitter!!


End file.
